7/01/2017   Mountain Loop Highway hikes  
Ed and Delia joined us on an day trip up north for some birding and hiking. We stopped at Eide Road in hopes of finding shorebirds (our particular target was a Semipalmated Sandpiper, I think) but the wetlands were nearly dry and devoid of shorebirds. We couldn't find the Barn Owl under the bridge either.
I had in mind hiking Mount Dickerman off the Mountain Loop highway but decided it would be too difficult for us so we stopped at the Big Four Ice Caves instead. The ice caves melted out completely in 2015 but since then snow has accumulated in some good-sized patches and the location is still a very popular destination. No wonder, since the hike is easy and the scenery spectacular. Flowers were nice in places too, including a pink Columbine along the trail near the upper edge of the forested area. I have never seen a pink one in Washington or anywhere else; based on the flower structure it was probably an escape from cultivation.
A forest ranger we met at the end of the trail explained that Big Four mountain was not named for its number of peaks but rather for a snowfield shaped like a "4" on the side of the mountain facing the old mining district of Monte Cristo. He also suggested Perry Creek trail as a possible hike for us and noted that the diversity of ferns along that trail is probably the highest in the Mount Baker Snoqualmie Forest.
The Perry Creek trail was a pleasant hike even though we only made it about halfway up. It did indeed sport a variety of ferns; I counted 10 species (Sword fern, Deer Fern, Bracken, Oak Fern, Licorice Fern, Lady Fern, and another one in addition to those pictured above). Also noteworthy were the very large Douglas fir trees scattered through the mature second growth along the trail. We had 17 species of birds including a Barred Owl not far from the trailhead which we spotted after hearing the hissing call of a young one. Ed and Delia were delighted; they did not have one yet for the year.

7/03/2017   Family Visit  
One of the reasons we bought a large house was in order to be able to host Darchelle's extended family and we tested that capability this week, when Ben and Sally drove over from east of the mountains with their five young children, then Darchelle's sister Alicia with her boys Daniel and Gabriel and Darchelle's parents Richard and Donna all joined us. We thought the house hheld us all very comfortably; hopefully our guests agreed. We spent lots of time sitting around visiting and eating. Alicia took photos. Ben cleared our clogged gutters. Richard and the boys filled our new planters with dirt then helped me dig holes and plant plants in the garden.

7/08/2017   Sabbath  
Ben and Sally left midweek but the others stayed through the weekend and we all went to church together, lingered for a potluck and sending off ceremony for Ellen who is going to Spain shortly, then took a late afternoon stroll through Magnuson Park where we met Marco and Monica.

7/10/2017   Red-necked Stint chase  
A rare Red-necked Stint, still in breeding plumage yet, was reported at Crockett Lake on Whidbey Island three days ago but I didn't hear about it until this afternoon, after the family left. My own fault - I haven't been reading email or checking the rare bird alerts. Even this morning it was being seen at close range within 50 yards of the road. After some dithering, I decided to head up there even though we wouldn't arrive until a couple of hours before sunset.
My indecision was not just about whether the bird was worth the trip, but about the broader question of whether I want to keep trying to chase rare birds at all given the steady decline in my ability to manage the mechanics of birdwatching - looking through binoculars, handling the camera, carrying the scope, entering my sightings in eBird on the phone. My capabilities to find, identify and photograph birds are all impacted. Birding has become an exercise in frustration, stained with sadness.
We did not find the bird. Quite possibly, we overlooked it. The sun was low and the light difficult. Unable to scan the mud flats with binoculars and unable to set up or move my scope, I couldn't cover the area very well. The few other birdwatchers there didn't fare any better. I walked out across the Salicornia with another birder named Mary. She carried her scope which I borrowed to scan the peeps on the distant mud flats but the birds were backlit and we couldn't pick out the rufous neck which would have distinguished the stint. We did watch a pair of Peregrines course over the flats and flush all the birds far far away except for a couple of small high-flying sandpipers. Powering low over the mud, the female Peregrine shot up underneath them and struck the lead bird then whipped around and grabbed it in the air. She settled on a snag over near where we were parked to pluck and eat it by the orange light of the setting sun. We hoped it wasn't the stint.
As we were waiting for the ferry home, Andy called. He and a friend would be coming through Seattle tomorrow morning on their way to look for the stint. If I wanted to join them they would be happy to stop and pick me up. I had already made plans to hike up to Summerland tomorrow with Daniel and David. Both Daniel and Darchelle urged me not to abandon them. Suspecting that the stint had probably left town, I told Andy I couldn't make it.

7/11/2017   Summerland hike  
Not chasing the stint with Andy was the wrong decision. It was still present; they had great views of the bird, and by the time I was able to get up there again, three days later, it was gone. Chances of another showing up in the state during my lifetime, or at least while I am still functional enough to go look for it, are slim. Meanwhile the hike was glorious but both Daniel and David brought a friend along so they might not have noticed my absence until dinnertime, when I paid the bill.
BTW, any bitterness you might detect in the previous statement is not about paying the bill for dinner with my boys, which I'm happy to do any time, but rather about the ongoing and unrelenting loss of the primary passion of my life, birding. Failing to see the Red-necked Stint was ultimately just one more increment of that loss.

7/15/2017   The Garden  
Our garden, disheveled as it is, is a source of pleasure for both of us. Here are a few pictures of its midsummer glory. Darchelle planted three big beefsteak tomatoes in our new planter box in the median strip, the sunniest spot in our entire yard. We would have preferred cherry tomatoes but couldn't find any plants for sale this late in the season. We planted pots of sweet basil, three for $10 at QFC this week, in the front corners of the box, and two raspberry plants in the median strip next to the box. We purchased two boxes; the second one is on the north side of the house and hosts a single Kiwi vine, which hopefully does not mind lots of shade.

7/16/2017   Mount McCausland hike  
We intended to get back to Mount McCausland, along the Pacific crest Trail north of Stevens Pass, earlier this summer to celebrate the second anniversary of my asking Darchelle to marry me. Today we were a month late but nobody seemed to mind. Darchelle found the note she had written in the summit register on the occasion. Although we did not see Black Swifts this time, and we also did not find the previously reported Three-toed Woodpeckers, we did see and hear my first Pine Grosbeaks for the year.

7/18/2017   Chinook Pass hike  
My brother Eric died early this morning, though the medical examiner recorded yesterday as the date of death. John discovered him lying in the fetal position at the foot of the stairs just inside the back door while the boys and I were driving up to Chinook Pass. John at first thought he was sleeping and asked why he was sleeping there at four o'clock in the afternoon. When Eric didn't respond John felt his wrist. He was cold. The boys and I left the car an hour later at 2:00 PM and hiked out the Naches Peak Trail on the east side of the pass. John called 911 after asking a passing kid on a bike what was the number he was supposed to call. John was so shocked at finding Eric dead that he could not remember whether it was 311, or 511 or what. The kid stayed with him until the police arrived about 10 minutes later. When we reached the height of land to the east of Naches Peak we left the trail and hiked along the ridge towards the prominent open peak about a mile away. We had to descend a little cliff face, rather dicey without using my hands. On the way back we dropped down on the south side of the ridge and avoided the cliff. After calling Mom and letting her know John tried several times to call us but we didn't have service. The open ridge up to the peak was steep and gravelly but not too difficult. When we reached the top we discovered that it was indeed a peak and not just a high point on the ridge. Cliffs dropped into a cirque to the east and a steep talus slope to the south. We sat down on the summit, a round table of shattered rhyolite about 10 feet across, and popped open a couple of beers to celebrate. Daniel had service on top and found a text from Darchelle asking us to call John. He called and handed the phone to me. I started to cry as John described finding Eric and the boys put their arms around me. There were no words or even feelings, just tears. I don't think I cried again until 10 days later after talking through my eulogy with Darchelle back in Jackson.
On the way back to Chinook Pass Daniel swam in a little tarn while I photographed Avalanche Lilies and magenta paintbrush.

7/20/2017   Granite Mountain hike  
In my biggest hike of the year so far (8.6 miles, 3800 feet), David and I did Granite Mountain. The weather was gray and even a little drizzly but while we were on top the clouds began to break up so we caught glimpses of views. We averaged 1300 feet per hour on the ascent and that was about all I could do. That's about half of what I could do a year ago, a consequence of reduced lung capacity due to withering of my chest muscles by ALS. If I continue to decline at that rate I'll be dead by next summer. That's how it goes with ALS - death is the endpoint of every line of thinking. Anyhow, other than my breathing I felt pretty strong although the muscles in the back of my neck were feeble for the last couple of miles.

7/29/2017   Jackson visit and Eric's service  
David and I spent a week in Jackson with the family. Darchelle joined us on Thursday and flew back with us on Monday after Eric's Memorial service on Sunday. All of the grandchildren came back for the service so the boys were busy with their cousins. Darchelle and I enjoyed lunches in the sun on the terrace with Mom and John and walks around the Triangle with John. On our own we did a little hike on Black Mountain up behind Burgess's Pond where a few beautiful orange Amanita caesarea mushrooms were fruiting. It turns out that A. caesarea is the European species and that the North American species is named Amanita jacksonii. For Jackson apparently, which is appropriate since Jackson is the only place where I have ever seen them.
I also spent a fair amount of time with Sarah and Roger. They have developed an interest in birdwatching so we went birding in Pinkham Notch L+ on one morning and hiked up Doublehead L+ on another. We managed to find a few warblers and even get glimpses some of them. Then while we were admiring the views from the ledges on South Doublehead a Merlin flew by and shortly afterwards a pair of Boreal Chickadees flitted through the spruces. They are not easy to find even on Mount Washington and I had never seen them on Doublehead before so I was pretty excited.
The service was the focus of the week but we didn't specifically work on it more than a couple of hours a day. Eric was on our minds but we didn't talk about him much. John made arrangements for the service and took care of financial matters pertaining to Eric's will and trust. Mom collected photos from various albums and copied them in order to put together a couple of foamboard collages for the service. Sarah contacted friends and associates of Eric's from various times of his life to ask them to share their memories during the service.
Daniel and Darchelle between them recorded most of Eric's service, and afterwards I intended to transcribe the stories they recorded and compile them online. It proved to be an ambitious project and I may not manage to finish it in the time I myself have left, but Remembering Eric+ is the product of my efforts thus far. It incorporates my own and Sarah's reflections as well as stories we heard from his friends and community at the memorial service. There is some overlap in the content I included on that page and in my account below of his service; maybe some day I'll get it all sorted into a single document but for now, you'll need both accounts to get the whole story.
As the turnout at his service demonstrated, many people knew and liked, even loved, Eric, but perhaps none of us knew him well. Even Rick, despite knowing him for 20 years or more, had never been inside his house. I think I may have been the last person to visit him at home and that was two years ago. He didn't bother much with housecleaning, nor with repairs for that matter. Only one toilet was still functional and the seat for that one was leaning up against the wall, close at hand for when it was needed. For three seasons out of four he simply walked downstairs and went out the back door to pee. Perhaps that was what he was doing, late at night on the 17th, when he fell down stairs and hit his head.
For us in the family, walking through Eric's house was like stepping into a time capsule. Ski area maps we had collected during family ski vacations when we were kids still hung on the wall, along with a poster I had in my bedroom during high school. Christmas gifts from the last several years were piled on a table in a corner of the kitchen. In a spare bedroom several road bikes in various stages of disassembly were clustered around a bike repair stand. In another corner of the same room I spotted a pile of computer parts and broken circuit boards, some of them the remnants of laptops he had thrown out the window in frustration over the past decade or so. Not everything was old. Clean laundry hung from racks and exercise equipment and furniture corners around the house. He didn't have a dryer.
As I looked around his house I came across a scrap of paper on which Eric had jotted down a few notes on what he might say about me at my funeral. Ten years ago he had written an obituary for Dad for the local paper. I think he felt the responsibility to do likewise for me, and to talk at my service as well. As Eric had for me, I felt responsible to share a eulogy for him at his service so I worked on it for several days beforehand. It did not go well. Figuring that I would not be able to use it, I had not brought my laptop so I had to prepare the eulogy all in my head rather than writing it out ahead of time as I would prefer to have done. For several nights I woke up around 2AM and unable to go back to sleep, pondered what I would say. I thought about how he was alone most of his life despite being around family and friends. He never married. I thought about the pain of being alone and about the fear that isolated him, and constrained him in other ways as well.
After one of those nights I woke up depressed and didn't know why. I felt confused as I shared my eulogy with Darchelle; I realized that I wasn't sure whose eulogy I was writing, his or my own. We were so much alike. I too have been constrained and isolated by fear for much of my life. Although I did marry, I too have lived much of my life with the sense that there was no one there for me, that I was essentially alone in facing the world.
Like Eric I have long found a sense of purpose and accomplishment in individual physical activities - mostly hiking and running for me, hiking, skiing and cycling for Eric. Eric observed that he gravitated towards being an assistant rather than the leader. He believed it was because I was the leader when we were young, but for much of my career I also avoided being the leader, and was much more comfortable being either the outside expert or the right-hand man. We even both like data. Eric recorded daily weather observations for years. I have recorded bird observations for years. While Eric was alive, I noticed the differences between us. Now that he has died, I recognize the similarities.
After lunch, alone on the terrace with Darchelle, I cried, for Eric but also for myself. We were alike, but shared so little. Now soon I too will die prematurely, like Eric. Neither of us will remain and no one will know where we have gone.
Rick joined us on two evenings for a beer in the afternoon sunshine under Sarah's grape arbor. For the last number of years he and Eric and a group of friends met up on Eagle Mountain House golf course almost every summer evening for nine holes and a few beers. They called Eric "Little Buddy". He was a competent golfer but his swing was the strangest Rick had ever seen, which might have been due to his chronically sore hips. For years Eric had planned to get surgery to repair his hips but first he had to take care of the abscess behind one of his molars, but he couldn't do that until he got some medication for his high blood pressure. Finally, just in the last month or so, he had scheduled an appointment with a dentist to work on the abscess so that he get the hip surgery. Like a houseplant moved into the sunshine, he was growing again after being dormant. We don't know who or what was the sunshine in his life.